


Tighter

by White Queen Writes (fhartz91)



Series: Ineffable Shibari [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bondage, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Lovers, M/M, Post-Canon, Romance, Serpent Crowley, Shibari, Suspension, erotic asphyxiation, just the ramblings of an ineffable bdsm expert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23639323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/White%20Queen%20Writes
Summary: After a stressful day at work, Aziraphale finds his ease wrapped in the coils of his beloved demon husband.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Shibari [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674700
Comments: 10
Kudos: 121





	Tighter

“Tighter …” Aziraphale whispers when he feels the gentle tickle of a tongue flicker across his face “… if you wouldn’t mind, my dear.”

It takes more breath to complete that request than he’s used to using. He didn’t realize how little breath his corporation had left. It began with a squeeze - just the slightest, then a bit more, his head swimming from lack of oxygen to the brain of his human form. It creeps up on him as inch by inch the air leaves his body.

But the effects hit him hard.

Asphyxiation is Aziraphale’s favorite drug when administered at the hands of his beloved demon.

Of course, unlike humans, Aziraphale is fortunate in that it won’t do him any permanent damage.

Being occult, he can linger here for hours in the ease of pleasure.

“That’s it …” he gasps, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Oh … that’s lovely that …”

Aziraphale sighs, giving Crowley room to wind around his throat even tighter. Aziraphale needs this. He needs this escape.

It had been one long day at his bookshop.

Right before Christmas is always a hectic time, with humans bustling from store to store searching for the perfect present. Being an antique book dealer in the modern age of iPods, iPads, iPhones and the such, he thought his shop would be immune.

Overlooked like the dusty relic it is. 

As it turned out not since along with the age of electronic this and computerized that came an upsurge in nostalgia and a trend towards the vintage.

 _Shabby chic_ he’d heard it called.

After a spot of research (which he performed with the help of Crowley’s iPhone ironically enough) Aziraphale discovered, to his horror, that the people flooding his shop in search of quaint old books were snatching them up mainly for show.

And infuriatingly, they were willing to pay top dollar for hardcovers they would never crack the spines of.

Aziraphale shut his shop for a month after he found out, took an extended vacation with Crowley to Milan in the hopes it would all blow over by the time they returned.

But it didn’t.

It took everything in his power - cold chills, dreary thoughts, musty smells - to shoo people out the door so he could close up at a decent hour. Still, there was one woman who just would. not. leave.

 _She_ he almost snapped into oblivion.

Holidays on the whole have begun to make Aziraphale bitter - an odd situation for an angel to find themselves in. He often feels the true meaning of the season is lost on most people. No longer is it a celebration of the birth of Christ.

But it needn’t be.

Not for everyone.

What it should be about is love, community, the miracle of birth, the blessing that is family, the joy that comes from gathering together and sharing our lives.

What it’s turned into now, Aziraphale barely recognizes.

All the commercialization, the materialism, the wants and the needs and the have to haves.

The twist to that is Aziraphale can’t rightly remember whose fault that is.

It would be easy to say Hell’s, wouldn’t it? Turning a celebration of love into a celebration of _stuff_ seems right up their alley. But it could have also been humans themselves. They’ve gotten better at perpetrating evil than even demons.

But, honestly, it could have been Heaven.

Not intentionally perhaps. One of those tragic missteps by some well-meaning Principality (not Aziraphale, but _someone_ ) trying to drum up greater attention for the birth of Christ by inspiring an epic sale on home appliances.

This isn’t to say that Aziraphale thinks gift giving is evil, or that he doesn’t enjoy getting presents.

Aziraphale enjoys presents a great deal, especially ones for him.

He, however, already has the perfect gift.

A gift that keeps on giving.

A handsome, adventurous, loyal demon willing to strip to his skin, tie Aziraphale down, and string him up whenever he asks.

But Aziraphale needed more this time. He needed to be closer to his rigger. He needed Crowley one with him, over him, holding him, embracing him - every inch of demon skin touching every inch of angel flesh. So Crowley transformed, became the Serpent of Eden for Aziraphale, and added himself to the rig. He’s the line attaching Aziraphale’s ankles to his neck, wrapping carefully around and squeezing slowly … slowly ... Every time Aziraphale breathes out, Crowley tightens a sliver until Aziraphale’s face is ruby red, his eyelids heavy, his smile sloppy and incandescent.

“How long would you like to ssstay like thisss?” Crowley asks, planting cold, dry kisses to his angel’s cheeks.

“That … depends …” Aziraphale says. “Do … you … have … any … plans?”

“Yesss.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale’s eyebrows try to lift, but his relaxed muscles refuse to bear the weight. “What … are … they?”

“Ssstaying here with you.”

Aziraphale snorts. “Well … isn’t that … convenient …”

“Mmm-hmm …” Crowley rearranges his coils, freeing up his tail. “Now I’m going to loosen up your ankles … work my way around your body … and find something else I can choke.”


End file.
